


Don't Think, Just Move

by LanadelBeyoncePuncher



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Impromptu Lubrication, Light Dom/sub, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 12:12:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11691372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanadelBeyoncePuncher/pseuds/LanadelBeyoncePuncher
Summary: Jhin really needs to find the art dealer who gypped him of his hard-earned money, but Draven seems to have other ideas on how to waste his time.





	Don't Think, Just Move

It was easy to slip through the masses of Noxus when half the population wouldn't bat an eye so long as you wore some shade of red and walked like you owned every inch of the land you strode upon. Not that Jhin belonged in Noxus, mind you, he just happened to have a little...unfinished business to take care of. Someone had cheated his latest masterpiece out of its true coin value and he fully intended to collect his dues one way or another. He turned left, about to walk down an alley to shorten his travel time when a large axe came flying through the air and cemented itself in the concrete beside Jhin’s head, stopping him in his tracks. At the source was a grinning, cocky man with messy brown hair and a pelt of wolf’s fur fastened to his tacky red and green vest who was now sauntering over to the marksman. Great. Jhin really didn't need to deal with mister ‘ego bigger than his entire body’ today. 

 

“What do you want, Draven?” He huffed irritably, crossing his arms over his chest as the grinning marauder leaned in, trying to rise up on his toes to match the marksman's height.

 

“You got a minute or two to spare?” Draven purred, running a finger along the curve of Jhin’s jaw before the virtuoso slapped his hand away. “I hear you make beautiful things.”

 

“I don't have time,” Jhin scoffed.

 

“Make some,” Draven persisted, stepping even closer so his chest pressed against the virtuoso’s and carefully trailed his hand over the curve of Jhin’s shoulder. “Or do I have to beg you to make me yours?”

 

Jhin knew he should shove the insufferable prick off him and go find that bastard art dealer before he spent the last of  _ Jhin’s  _ well-earned money on booze, but the prospect of Draven being at his beck and call, well…

 

“Fine. Get moving.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jhin hadn't slept with anyone in a long time. Most of the women who lusted after him with their pale faces and thin limbs were far too ugly to even consider taking into the bedroom. Draven wasn't beautiful in any sense of the word, because he had that ridiculous mustache and messy hair and never really seemed to do anything that didn't benefit himself, but Jhin found it more charming than a giggling blonde bowing at his feet. 

 

“Ow, ow, ow those are really tight!” Draven whined as Jhin pulled against the silk scarves currently fastening the executioner’s wrists to the brass bedframe. 

 

“That’s the idea. Can't have you touching more than you’re allowed,” Jhin hummed as he set his carapace and cannon down on the floor, stripping away his clothes until all that was left was his dark fuschia vest which cut off at his waist. He didn't really feel like taking his time trying to prep the squirmy bastard on the mattress, so Jhin knelt over Draven’s waist and snatched a small bottle of ink he kept with him off the floor before dipping two fingers into the dark liquid. 

 

“Is that for me?” Draven wondered aloud before watching wide-eyed as Jhin slid the digits deep into his own ass with a long exhale. His mouth floundered like a fish as the brunette stared at Jhin’s fingers sliding in and out of his ass with practiced ease. Every so often, little droplets of ink would splatter against Draven’s bare thighs and along his straining erection trapped beneath his boxers, sending shivers up the executioner’s spine. Jhin was already pressing a third finger dripping with ink into his ass as his neglected cock twitched with anticipation. 

 

“Consider yourself lucky. Most people don't get the chance to see this side of me,” Jhin purred before sliding his fingers out and prying Draven’s damp boxers down his hips until they reached his knees. The executioner made some kind of impatient whine as his dick touched the cold air, but it hardly lasted long as Jhin lined the head of Draven’s cock over his hole and slowly lowered himself down. 

 

“Holy shit. Ohhhhhhh my god,” Draven panted heavily. 

 

He tried snapping his hips into the virtuoso’s warm, wet heat, but Jhin’s hands grabbed his thighs and pressed them down against the bed, completely immobilizing the executioner. Jhin clicked his tongue and rose onto his knees which left Draven’s cock stranded in the air again.

 

“Do I have to punish you, Executioner?” Jhin threatened, his voice hot and dangerous from behind his plaster mask. 

 

“N-no. No, I-I’m good,” the brunette muttered weakly as he settled his hips back onto the mattress. He was rewarded with the return of Jhin’s ass engulfing his quivering dick and a hand tangling itself in Draven’s long hair, pulling at the strands until they were achingly tight against his scalp. The executioner folded his lower lip under his teeth, chewing down hard as Jhin set an agonizingly slow pace, rising up and down at his own leisure as he moaned softly behind his mask. Draven knew he was the one getting the most out of their little game, but he couldn't shake the feeling that  _ he  _ was the one being fucked into oblivion as Jhin rocked back and forth on his dick, pulling Draven’s hair with each rise and fall. The air between them was thick, heavy with tension and unspoken words, while Jhin sat himself squarely on Draven’s thighs with the executioner’s cock deep inside his ass, squeezing him tight. “Jhin, c-can't I just…” Draven began as he lifted his hips just a smidgen, but found there wasn't any length left to press inside the virtuoso. 

 

Jhin, however, didn't seem to hear the other man’s pitiful whimpering as he wrapped his ink-slicked hand around his cock and fisted his straining dick, tugging hard on the length until he came with a long sigh. A streak of white cum splattered against Draven’s vest, leaving a long mark of where the virtuoso has been. Yet, just as Draven was about to thrust into Jhin, the marksman swiftly rose off the executioner’s cock and left him struggling pitifully against his bonds as Jhin began pulling his clothes back on. 

 

“Wait, wait! Aren't you going to finish me?” Draven all but begged, tugging on the scarves keeping his wrists locked above his head. “Jhin! You can't just leave me here!”

 

“Oh no, I don't have time, nor the patience. But you gave an adequate performance, so I suppose I won't tell your brother an Ionian took advantage of you and left you stranded in a cheap motel room,” Jhin hummed, strapping his cannon back over his shoulder and donning the Noxian colors once more. “Thanks for invitation,” he purred before striding out the door and slamming it behind him, leaving Draven to scream and thrash helplessly against the headboard.

 

Now, where did that art dealer live, again…?

 


End file.
